


Bitter Fruit

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jiyong got a job as a high school art teacher, he didn't know what to expect. But he's pretty sure none of those would-be expectations involved falling in love with one of his students.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for a writing fest over on AFF. Object/word prompts were: paintbrushes, yellow lights, "it's dark"

 

Day 1

 

Surveying his empty classroom, Jiyong puffed his cheeks up and forced out a nervous breath. The first day of the school year was always the most difficult. He'd come in early, spent over an hour making sure everything was perfect, not a single pencil or paintbrush out of place. Soon he'd be standing in front of a group of teenagers, every one of them inevitably baffled by the fact that their art teacher was barely older than they were. Jiyong still didn't know if he regretted his eagerness to finish his degree as quickly as possible. No one took him seriously, least of all his fellow faculty. To them he was merely a child destined to fail and their respect would be hard-won. But he'd wanted this for his entire life. The only way he was truly going to learn was to throw himself into the fire, not by wasting away in a university buried under books. Jiyong adjusted his black button-up shirt, carded a hand through his messy black hair. The first bell rang and he jumped. Laughing at himself, he sat down on one of the long tables, legs swinging back and forth as he waited for his new students to trickle in through the door.

 

Even without knowing their names, Jiyong consistently made an effort to learn their faces or some defining characteristic. As the classroom filled up, he filed away these details in order to make notes on his attendance sheet later. The girl with hi-lighter pink hair, the boy with a small mole next to his nose, the boy with the industrial ear piercing, the short girl with her eyes glued to her phone. That last one was probably going to be an issue. When the second bell rang, he hopped down from the table and spun around, lips split in a bright smile. The students who were paying attention looked at him suspiciously and he mentally rolled his eyes.

 

Show time.

 

“Good morning!” He tried not to be too cheerful first thing, but his anxiousness usually made that a challenge. “I'm not a stickler for formalities, so you can forget about calling me Mr. Kwon. Just Jiyong will do.”

 

“Uh, excuse me sir?” Came a small voice from across the room.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you seriously our teacher?” It was the girl with the pink hair.

 

“I am.”

 

“But you look like you're twelve,” she said, blushing.

 

“Thank you.” He grinned. “I'm twenty-four actually, for those who were wondering. Which I'm sure was all of you.”

 

He received a few chuckles. That was a good sign.

 

“I'll do attendance now, so please let me know if I get your name wrong or you'd prefer to be called something else.” Jiyong picked up his roster and sighed.

 

“Toby Anderson.”

 

“Here.”

 

“Jennifer Aster.”

 

“Jenny, please.”

 

He nodded, scribbling in the margin.

 

“Rebecca Bauer.”

 

“Here.”

 

“Christopher Bond.”

 

“Chris.”

 

More scribbling.

 

“Lena Brighton.”

 

“Here,” said the bold, pink-haired girl. She would be even easier to remember now.

 

“Penelope Calder.”

 

“Here.”

 

“Seunghyun Choi.”

 

No response. Jiyong glanced up, eyebrows raised.

 

“Seunghyun?”

 

There was a flurry of movement behind him and a tall, long-haired Asian boy came running into the room, crashing into an empty chair.

 

“Sorry. I'm Seunghyun,” the boy panted, slouching in his seat, chest heaving.

 

He cleared his throat and forced himself to stare at the sheet of paper in his hands instead of at the remarkably handsome creature that had tumbled into his art room.

 

“Since it's the first day, I won't mark you late, but I'd appreciate it if you arrived on time in the future.”

 

“How generous of you.” Seunghyun smiled.

 

Fantastic. Not only was the boy beautiful but he was a smart-ass as well. He put a star next to Seunghyun's name, though he was sure he wouldn't need the reminder.

 

“Don't mention it,” Jiyong replied, purposely refusing to make eye-contact.

 

After finishing attendance, he set aside his clipboard and began the lesson. They were doing blind-contour portraits of each other today. It was the best way to break the ice, to get the students to engage with one another instead of hide inside their personal bubbles. It was awkward. It was embarrassing. It was perfect. Plus he sort of liked making them suffer in the beginning. Unfortunately there was an odd number of students, which meant someone would have to partner with him. He didn't mind, but it added another level of awkwardness for the students to have to stare at their teacher for five minute increments. Oh well, they'd live. Jiyong instructed them to pair off before delving into the assignment. It was more entertaining that way.

 

He watched, amused, as they shuffled around the room. Friends chose friends, girls tended to favor other girls. Teenagers were so fascinating.

 

“All right, who's the odd one out?” He asked once they'd settled.

 

Naturally, Seunghyun raised his hand.

 

“Me, sir.” The boy was smiling again and Jiyong almost groaned.

 

It looked like he would have to suffer with the rest of them.

 

“Great. You're with me, then.” He turned around to collect a stack of sketch paper and some permanent markers. “And you don't have to call me “sir” by the way. It's weird.”

 

“Whatever you say.” Seunghyun shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, smirk etched on his face.

 

He distributed the paper and the black markers, taking his sweet time. Anything to postpone his fate. He reminded himself that it wasn't a crime to find the boy aesthetically pleasing. But he couldn't shake the fear that just  _thinking_  about it in the first place would cost him his job. Jiyong slid into the chair next to Seunghyun and asked the others to crowd around them.

 

Taking a deep breath, he uncapped a marker and lifted his gaze. He focused on explaining the process of translating the lines of Seunghyun's features into lines on paper. (Not the soft curve of his chin or the adorable slope of his nose). He stressed the importance of keeping the tip of the marker on the page, eyes trained on your subject at all times. (The fullness of his lips, the elegant almond shape of his eyes). He told them to try and include as many details as possible. (The scar next to his left eyebrow, the dimples indenting his cheeks).

 

“It's not gonna look anything like your partner, so don't worry about it being exact.” Jiyong glanced down at this drawing. “In fact, most of the time it won't even look like a face, but I've been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

 

He held up the piece of paper so everyone could look, unable to stop a pleased grin when he saw their awed expressions. Nice to know he hadn't lost his flare. Seunghyun was still staring at him, hadn't looked away. Jiyong swallowed.

 

“Okay, hop to it,” he said. “You'll have fifteen minutes to complete two or three drawings and then we'll switch partners.”

 

Turning back to the boy, he had the sudden urge to erase that ever-present smirk with the flat of his tongue. Warning bells sounded in the back of his head and he breathed in slowly through his nose. Dangerous thoughts, Jiyong.

 

“You're awfully young to be teaching high school students,” Seunghyun murmured, tip of his marker already gliding over the paper.

 

“I wasn't aware that there was an age requirement.”

 

The boy emitted a quiet laugh ad he wanted to die. Those dark, intelligent eyes caressed the line of his brow like gentle, exploring fingers and he wanted to bury himself a thousand feet beneath the earth's crust.

 

“But isn't it strange for you? I mean, you were in high school, what? Seven years ago?”

 

“Six.” He checked the clock but it was still too early. “It took some getting used to. I think my age gives me an advantage over the other teachers despite my lack of experience.”

 

“Because they've forgotten what it's like to be young.”

 

It was a statement, not a question. Jiyong's lips curved upward.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Stop smiling, you're ruining my masterpiece.” Seunghyun flicked his eyes down to his drawing.

 

“I will if you stop cheating.” His smile widened but he was cringing inside. Flirting with one of his students on the first day, what was wrong with him?

 

The boy bit down on his own grin as he concentrated on not peeking. In turn, Jiyong did his best not to melt into a puddle under Seunghyun's intense scrutiny. He listened to the sound of ink being scratched into paper fibers, of faint giggles and impatient feet scuffing over the linoleum floor. He almost closed his eyes, but suspected that the boy would say something and he didn't want to hear the deep rumble of that voice any more than he absolutely had to. Tapping his fingers on the table, he kept glancing at the clock on the wall, cursing the sluggish progression of time.

 

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

 

“No,” he lied.

 

“I don't believe you.”

 

Damnit. Seunghyun's perceptiveness was starting to creep him out. He looked at the clock once more. The fifteen minutes had passed, thank god, and he stood up without responding.

 

“Time's up,” he announced. “Find your next victim please.”

 

The students did as they were told, albeit without much enthusiasm. When he sat down again Seunghyun was gone and he found himself sitting across from Lena, in all her fluorescent glory.

 

“Sorry, about earlier,” she muttered, head lowered.

 

“It's all right. Really.” Jiyong twirled his marker in his fingers. “Shall we?”

 

The rest of the period went by without incident. He set out baskets of colored pencils and more markers, instructing them to go to town on their finished sketches. It gave him the opportunity to observe who was making a real effort and who was simply following orders. Jiyong circled the room with slow steps until the bell signaling the end of class rang obnoxiously from the hallway.

 

“Hand me your drawings before you leave, please,” he shouted over the ruckus of hastily packed bags and the sloppy clack of plastic. “Tomorrow we'll go over the syllabus and the supply list.”

 

Standing by the door, he said goodbye to each student, testing himself on their names as they walked out. Seunghyun was the last to leave, depositing his piece of sketch paper in top of the pile in Jiyong's hands.

 

“Have a good day, sir.” The boy gifted him with a now familiar smirk and strolled into the hall with his hands shoved in his pockets.

 

He fell into his desk chair, leaned forward, and let his forehead smack against the surface of the table.

 

“Fucking hell.”

 

 

Day 5

 

The end of the first week of the semester came sooner than Seunghyun expected it to. Granted, he was only taking one class. When he'd discovered that he could make an early escape from the torture of high school, he hadn't hesitated to talk to his counselor. Though he'd been surprised to find out that he still needed one more credit. Bored and unimpressed with the rest of his options, he'd signed up for an art class. Initially he'd almost been insulted, having to resort to painting pictures of fake fruit after toiling away in AP and honors classes for the last three years. But it would be an easy 'A' to round out his already impressive GPA.

 

He was actually happy things had turned out like this. Mr. Kwon was not the depressed, middle-aged failure he had anticipated. No, Jiyong was something new. Something fresh. For the most part Seunghyun thought all of his teachers were idiots, but not Jiyong. The older boy hadn't been tainted and worn down by decades of working in the public school system yet, his optimism and enthusiasm still intact. Of course, the fact that he was really fucking pretty didn't hurt either. Honestly, he felt a little bad for being late on the first day. He wasn't normally so careless, but he'd slept through his alarm and then his piece of shit car wouldn't start. It had all been worth it, in the end, though. Because nothing would ever be quite so endearing as the faint blush on Jiyong's cheeks after he'd come barreling into the room.

 

Seunghyun didn't exactly make it a habit to crush on his teachers. (Except for that one substitute in his AP Calculus class last year that he'd had wet dreams about for weeks, but that didn't really count). In fact, he couldn't recall the last time he'd been so instantly enamored with another human being. Period. And it was clear to him that Jiyong wasn't unaffected by his teasing and smart-ass remarks either. The tell-tale tint of his cheeks whenever the older boy caught Seunghyun staring was kind of a dead giveaway. It had been so cute to see him squirm during the blind-contour exercise. Needless to say, he'd thoroughly enjoyed having permission to openly appreciate such kissable lips, such alluring eyes.

 

Every day that week he added more and more to the list of things he liked about Jiyong. His big, infectious smile, his obvious passion for teaching, the way his shoulders shook when he laughed, his artistic talent, the fact that he bit his nails, his sense of humor, the sway of his hips when he walked. And the way he dressed, fuck. A simple button-up and jeans should not have been that sexy, but they were. This morning was no exception, Jiyong's small frame clad in tight, black pants and a dark gray sweater that looked so butter soft he just wanted to rub his face-

 

“Seunghyun.” The older boy was waving his hands back and forth.

 

“Huh?” He blinked dumbly up at his teacher.

 

“I asked if you had your homework assignment from yesterday.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, one sec.”

 

Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out the sketchbook he'd bought and attempted not to appear too embarrassed before handing it over.

 

“Much appreciated.” Jiyong reached out for the pad of paper but Seunghyun wasn't ready to let him go just yet.

 

“Quick question.”

 

“I'm listening.”

 

“Will there be any opportunities for extra credit?” He didn't really care, he only wanted to keep the older boy's attention focused on him for as long as he could.

 

Jiyong smiled and his pulse fluttered.

 

“It's only been one week and you're already asking about extra credit? Either you're trying to impress me or you're genuinely worried about your grade.”

 

“A bit of both, actually.” Seunghyun wasn't lying, technically. He was more interested in the former if he was being completely honest.

 

“I won't be grading you on your skill level. And as far as impressing me goes, it'll take a little more than that.”

 

“Is that a challenge, sir?” He loved seeing Jiyong falter whenever he used the formal address, loved getting under his skin.

 

The older boy's spine straightened and for once he didn't avert his gaze. Seunghyun grinned. This was far too entertaining.

 

“Maybe.” Jiyong tugged the sketchbook out of his grasp. “Surprise me.”

 

Oh, it was definitely a challenge. He chuckled as his teacher walked away, watched how the fabric of the boy's jeans hugged his ass. Seunghyun couldn't decide if he imagined the subtext in those words or not, but he was going to find out or die trying. It seemed his final few months of high school wouldn't be so dull after all.

 

 

Day 14

 

No matter how many times Jiyong yelled at himself for rising to Seunghyun's bait, for flirting back, for thinking about him more often than he should have, he couldn't stop. It was too easy for the boy to capture his attention merely by existing. He did his best to fight it though, really he did. Whenever he asked a question, Seunghyun's hand was the first one to shoot up but he would never call on him, always choosing someone else. If the boy was the only one with his fingers raised in the air, he counted to ten before giving in. And the exultant burst of triumph in that dark gaze sent shivers down his spine, like he knew that Jiyong was intentionally being stubborn. Like he enjoyed seeing him struggle. On occasion, when he was letting the kids work on their own, he sat at his desk and doodled mindlessly on whatever blank piece of paper he could find. Today's doodle was looking alarmingly similar to a pair of too-pretty eyes. Frowning, he crumpled the paper into a tight ball.

 

“You shouldn't throw that away,” Seunghyun said, hovering next to him. He gasped.

 

“Jesus, don't sneak up on me like that.”

 

The boy stared down at him with his stupid smirking lips. “I've been standing here for a few minutes.”

 

Well that made him feel so much better. He snorted.

 

“It's not worth keeping, trust me.” Jiyong tossed the compressed ball into the trash can near the front door. “Did you need something?”

 

“No, I just wanted to see what you were doing.”

 

He shook his head and gave the boy a tight-lipped smile. “Have you finished the assignment?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Show me.”

 

Seunghyun went to retrieve his drawing board and Jiyong didn't fixate on how the thin fabric of his t-shirt hung loosely from his broad shoulders. Didn't imagine what the material would feel like grazing his knuckles when he slipped his hands underneath to slide over the boy's back. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he chastised his brain for being so cruel.

 

“Sir?”

 

Jiyong narrowed his eyes. Seunghyun knew how much he hated that but he insisted on doing it anyway. It didn't make him feel like a pervert. Not at all. He took the board, glad for the temporary distraction. They'd been instructed to work on charcoal drawings of flowers that he'd set up around the room in different formations. The boy had chosen the peonies, apparently. His favorite. They were gorgeously detailed. Jiyong stopped himself from laughing, no longer surprised by anything anymore. The universe was making fun of him, surely, his life having turned into one gigantic cosmic joke.

 

“I can't tell if your silence is a good thing or a bad thing.” Seunghyun's baritone disrupted his internal pity party.

 

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

 

“About?”

 

“Nothing that concerns you,” he sighed. “This is excellent, though. Surprisingly well done.”

 

“Now I'm mildly offended.” But the boy was grinning from ear to ear, clearly pleased by his approval.

 

“Don't be.” Jiyong stood, handing the drawing board back. “For a beginner you show a lot of promise.”

 

Seunghyun beamed. Literally. The boy lit up so bright that he had to look away or else go blind from the white hot stars in his eyes.

 

“Thanks.”

 

He allowed a small laugh. Why did it feel so good to receive this boy's admiration? To be the reason for his happiness, even if it was short-lived. He was just another student. One of hundreds that he would teach over the years. What made him special? Jiyong had been asking himself this question repeatedly and still didn't have an answer.

 

“You're welcome.” Without thinking about it, he placed a hand on Seunghyun's arm.

 

Nearly three weeks in and he'd successfully managed to avoid physical contact. Until now. Big mistake. It was bad enough to be subjected to the boy's beautiful face day in and day out without knowing what the solid heat of his skin felt like pulsing under his palm. Their eyes met and Jiyong noticed the lack of distance between them. Seunghyun was so close he could make out the delicate spread of his thick eyelashes. Too close. He stepped away, hand falling limp at his side.

 

“There's enough time for you to begin another drawing.”

 

“I'll get back to work then.”

 

“Good.”

 

Neither of them moved, still just standing there. Still too close. He studied the boy's shoes, memorizing the worn spots and the patches of dirt. The discoloration of his laces.

 

“Right,” Seunghyun breathed and his feet disappeared from view.

 

Jiyong clenched his hand into a fist, let his fingers unfurl, then slipped out into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

 

 

Day 23

 

Going to class was starting to become an issue. All Seunghyun could think about was kissing his teacher senseless. Especially when the older boy was on display in front of him, his long, expressive fingers skillfully demonstrating their next project. He wanted to suck those fingers into his mouth and watch Jiyong's pupils dilate until his eyes were the same inky black splashed over the white paper in his sketchpad. Wanted to know what those slender thighs felt like wrapped around his waist. This want was so acute, so complete and consuming that his work had suffered. And Jiyong had noticed. He hadn't intended to make mistakes on purpose, too distracted by his vivid waking fantasies. But when he saw the genuine concern knitting the older boy's eyebrows together, he shamelessly took advantage of his desire to help.

 

“I can't get the perspective to look right.”

 

“Because you're not using the vanishing point as a reference.” Jiyong crouched next to him and pointed at a spot on the paper. “Here.”

 

“I still don't see it.”

 

The boy huffed, reaching up on the table to grab a ruler and then slid a pencil from behind his ear.

 

“Sometimes I get the impression that you only play dumb to fuck with me.”

 

“It's entirely possible.” He grinned nice and big. “And should you be swearing in front of us?”

 

“Shut up, Seunghyun.”

 

Jiyong took the drawing board from his lap and Seunghyun just laughed. He leaned back in his chair, observed as his teacher bent over the table to lay faint pencil lines over his inked ones. He concentrated on the older boy's profile, gaze trailing along the smooth planes of his face and getting stuck on the deceptively innocent way he was biting his lower lip. If not for the classroom full of students, he would have had no problem pinning Jiyong down and crawling all over him. Sighing, he shifted, propping his elbows up on his knees to take a closer look.

 

“I'm sorry, am I boring you?”

 

“Not at all.” Seunghyun tilted his head to the side, unabashedly staring. “I'm enjoying the view.”

 

Jiyong's hand paused over the paper for a beat and then continued, but his remark was otherwise ignored.

 

“You need to keep this point in space in mind when you're sketching out each object.” The boy gestured to the page, indicating the places where he'd screwed up. “Use this as a guide and start over.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“I really wish you'd stop calling me that.”

 

“What if I refuse?”

 

“Would the two of you just get a goddamn room already?” Lena blurted from the other end of the table.

 

He assumed they weren't being terribly subtle. Jiyong's cheeks flushed red and he retreated to his desk in silence. Seunghyun shot the big-mouthed pink-haired girl a glare, frustrated at being interrupted. She flipped him off, he rolled his eyes, and everyone resumed what they were doing.

 

For the rest of the class period he kept glancing over at Jiyong's desk, wondering what his next move should be.

 

 

Day 25

 

Lena's outburst two days prior had been a wake up call. He was walking a very dangerous line. A very dangerous, career threatening line. Jiyong needed to learn to control himself. And he needed to learn not to surrender to Seunghyun's charm, to this ridiculous spell that he had cast over him. But he didn't know how. Just when he thought he could distance himself, the boy would smile or laugh or stare at him with this fucking playfully affectionate look in his eyes and he was immediately sucked back in. It was insanity. In its purest form. Because Jiyong couldn't have what he wanted. Which was to walk up to Seunghyun in the middle of class, to cup his lovely face with both hands, and plunder that sweet mouth. There was no way that he could win in this situation. It was true that Seunghyun was graduating at the end of the semester (with honors, no less). But even so, the very thought of having any kind of relationship with a student that had attended this school was suicide. Therefore Jiyong would content himself with wild, hopeless dreams and that would have to be enough. He wouldn't pretend and he wouldn't get hung up on possibility.

 

Seunghyun waltzed in through the door that morning, long hair pulled up in a tiny knot atop his head, plaid shirt generously unbuttoned to reveal his collarbone, looking every inch like he had just stepped out of a magazine. Jiyong had to restrain the desire to forcefully fling himself from the window. If there was ever a reason for him to second-guess his decision to teach high school students, it was this walking, talking temptation of a boy.

 

“Morning, sir.” Seunghyun's sly grin ripped his resolve to shreds and left it in a sad heap on the floor.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“Are you okay?” The boy stooped low to scan his face, presenting him with a perfect view of the smooth chest hiding under that shirt. “You look a little flushed.”

 

“I'm fine,” he nearly squeaked.

 

“Are you absolutely certain?” Seunghyun leveled him with an inappropriately warm gaze, voice low, almost intimate.

 

“Yes. Thank you,” Jiyong whispered.

 

“Let me know if that changes. Wouldn't want you wearing yourself out.”

 

The boy's eyes lingered, the suggestion in his tone not lost on him. How could he be so blasé about the fact that he was essentially seducing one of his teachers, slowly but surely? Did he even care? Jiyong's blush must have outdone itself, because Seunghyun was smirking.

 

“Actually, I have a favor to ask.” He already hated himself for opening his stupid mouth.

 

“Anything, sir.” The boy glanced down at his lips.

 

He wasn't going to make it through this semester in one piece. It was final.

 

“I need you to help me with some boxes in the storage closet.”

 

If that didn't sound like a suggestion, Jiyong didn't know what did.

 

He was an idiot.

 

“It would be my pleasure.”

 

“Uh huh,” he uttered wryly.

 

Seunghyun left to put his bag down and he sucked in a desperately needed breath. He knew better than to play with fire. And yet here he was, doused in flame.

 

The storage closet was in the next room over. Jiyong lead the way, each step echoing in his head like a drum. The boy followed closely, the click of the storage closet door shutting behind them ringing out like a death sentence.

 

“I'm not-so-secretly hoping that this was just an excuse to be alone with me.” Seunghyun leaned against the wall.

 

“Wishful thinking, I'm afraid.” He turned away from that hooded gaze and tried to remember why he needed to come in here.

 

“Ah, well, a guy can dream.”

 

“Seunghyun.” It was supposed to be an admonishment, but it came out more like a plea.

 

Jiyong listened as the boy pushed away from the wall and moved closer, could sense the waves of body heat at his back.

 

“What?” Seunghyun spoke into his ear and he wanted to jump out of his skin. “Would you prefer it if I was more obvious?”

 

“No. I'd prefer it if you stopped.”

 

“See, I don't think you do.” The boy's large hands curled lightly around his hips.

 

Wrong. This was so wrong. Why was he hesitating? Jiyong slipped out of Seunghyun's grasp even though his blood screamed for more. With a calm he didn't actually possess, he pointed at some boxes on the top shelf.

 

“Please bring those into the classroom and set them on my desk.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

And then he ran. All the way to the men's room downstairs and at the end of the hall. Cold water surged from the tap and dripped from his face, clung to his nose and his chin. Jiyong met his own wide eyes in the mirror.

 

He didn't play with fire.

He didn't play with fire.

He didn't play with fire.

He didn't.

 

 

Day 37

 

The last thing Seunghyun wanted was to scare Jiyong. He was well aware of the consequences of his actions, knew that if anyone found out about their (mostly) harmless flirtations it would ruin lives. It was so easy to forget that youth didn't make you invincible. But he couldn't forget that he had a heart. Or that his heart was doing its best to make a home in a nest of paint-stained fingers. Seunghyun's dreams were changing, his subconscious no longer dedicated to satisfying his sexual urges. Instead he was transported nightly to a life he wasn't sure he could ever claim as his own. Jiyong coming home from work to their apartment. Jiyong snuggled up against him on their couch. Jiyong gradually kissing him awake in their bed. It was fucking awful.

 

After their encounter in the storage closet, Seunghyun had backed off. The fear in the older boy's eyes before he fled the room had left him shaken. This wasn't a game to him anymore. He didn't want to conquer Jiyong just because he could (and he knew he could). He wanted to earn Jiyong's smiles and his laughter. Wanted to earn the right to touch him. As much as he had enjoyed winding his teacher up, it was the realization that his behavior could hurt the boy that had him backpedaling. Seunghyun may have been on the Dean's List three consecutive years in a row but that didn't mean he couldn't be a dumbass. Besides, he was only eighteen.

 

Class was less exciting without the constant teasing, but he worked hard, like he would have in any other subject. Jiyong still caught him staring though. And every now and then Seunghyun would catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, cheekbones glowing with a hint of color. It gave him hope.

 

“I need your expertise for a moment.”

 

“My expertise?” Jiyong raised one of his eyebrows.

 

“Yes. I'm struggling with the perspective again.”

 

He brought the older boy to his easel where he was working on a painting of a cityscape. Overachiever that he was, he'd gotten a head start on his final project, much to Jiyong's surprise and vague annoyance.

 

“You're not struggling as much as you think.”

 

“Wonderful.”

 

“But I want you to find the issues without my help.”

 

“Not so wonderful.”

 

The boy actually grinned at him and his heart did its best imitation of an atomic bomb.

 

“I have faith in you, Mr. Choi.”

 

Jiyong dropped his arm to his side as Seunghyun took a step forward and their hands brushed against one another. He closed his eyes, waited a moment before pulling away.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It's fine.”

 

Breathe, Seunghyun. Just breathe.

 

 

Day 42

 

The humidity of Summer had faded, giving way to cooler breezes and a thick layer of leaves coating the grounds of the school. Jiyong stood at the window, thoughts a mess, as his students worked diligently in the background. He should be relieved that Seunghyun had refrained from making any further advances. However he found himself missing the swell of nerves in his chest when the boy's fingers had gripped his waist. It was crazy, but he couldn't help it. Something had shifted after that day. In both of them. Jiyong liked to think he'd managed to rid himself of his foolish infatuation. Liked to think he could make it through a single hour without daydreaming of those fingers laced with his. Lies. All of it. He would probably always want Seunghyun. And that would probably be his downfall.

 

More concerning than the dull ache of desire that had infiltrated every cell in his body was the happiness in his heart at seeing the boy bust his ass to please him. To impress him. To make him smile. And he did smile. Jiyong just tried to do it when he thought no one was watching.

 

Sometimes pride was more intoxicating than lust.

 

 

Day 60

 

“Um, sir?” He approached Jiyong at his desk.

 

“Yes, Seunghyun?” The older boy was rummaging though one of his drawers.

 

“Would it be cool if I stayed after class today? I wanted to work on my final.”

 

Jiyong's head snapped up and opened his mouth to speak, paused, then started again.

 

“Sure. Yeah, of course.”

 

He nodded his thanks and returned to his easel. Seunghyun genuinely wanted to stay and work. He wasn't in the mood to go home. He'd probably just lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling anyway. Not that he didn't have an ulterior motive of spending more time with the older boy, but he liked being in the art room. Never in his life did he think he'd enjoy painting, or that he'd even be any good at it. Life was full of surprises.

 

For a while he didn't acknowledge Jiyong's presence as he drifted around from table to cabinet and back, cleaning up after careless kids. Seunghyun became so lost in his own world that he didn't notice when his teacher had finished and was now sitting on the table behind him, chin cradled in one of his hands.

 

“You should add more shadows and highlights. It's too flat.”

 

He was so startled that he dropped his paintbrush. Jiyong snickered and then covered his mouth.

 

“Sorry,” the older boy chuckled.

 

“So what do you do when I'm not here to distract you?” He knelt down to retrieve the fallen brush, looking up at the boy's smiling face.

 

“You always distract me.”

 

“I wasn't aware.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Seunghyun laughed, rising up from the floor. He wasn't about to deny that, so he said nothing and sat next to Jiyong. They were both quiet, though his brain was buzzing. Telling him to speak, telling him to act, telling him to not be a dick when he did.

 

“You still haven't answered my question.”

 

“I draw. Or grade projects, even though I think it's a waste of time.” Jiyong picked at his nonexistent nails and shrugged. “Nothing exciting.”

 

“Why did you choose to be a teacher? I've been wondering.”

 

“This.” The boy pointed at Seunghyun's painting.

 

“I don't follow.”

 

“For someone with a 4.0 GPA, you're pretty dense.”

 

He snorted. The asshole had looked at his file. Of course he had.

 

“Humor me.”

 

“Inspiration. Until now, you've never painted anything, never done a still life or studied color theory. Never studied art history.” Jiyong's smile was so sweet his breath got lost on its way to his lungs. “But look at all the amazing work you've produced so far.”

 

“You think I'm amazing?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” the older boy said, gentle and sincere.

 

Seunghyun felt a warmth bloom inside of him, felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He'd heard those words before. From other teachers, other students. His parents. None of them had ever made him feel like this. Though he doubted there were many people in the world who could hold a candle to Jiyong.

 

“So, being an artist didn't interest you?”

 

“Nope. Too competitive.”

 

“But you're so talented.”

 

“Thank you.” Another sweet smile. Seunghyun was becoming greedy.

 

“I mean it.”

 

“Since I was little, I've wanted to be a teacher. The drama of the art world just isn't my cup of tea.”

 

“Can I see some of your personal work sometime?”

 

“You'd really want to?”

 

He grinned, nodded yes, and was rewarded with perfect teeth and pink gums. Jiyong stretched his arms, leaning back. Seunghyun didn't bother to hide his appreciative gaze as it roamed over the older boy's slender body, remembering the shape of those narrow hips in his hands. There was a blind hunger, somewhere near his heart, for his hands to know more. For his lips to take their maiden voyage, sliding across the sea of his skin. He turned away and looked at his painting. A pathetic attempt to divert his attention from long fingers and longer limbs.

 

“Do you know where you're going to college yet?”

 

“I'm not.”

 

“Really?” Jiyong sprang forward, bending low to see his eyes.

 

“Yeah.” He heaved a sigh, tired of having this conversation. “I'm taking time off. My parents want me to join the Peace Corps, but I don't know.”

 

“There's nothing you wanna study?”

 

“Nothing that inspires.” Seunghyun smirked, glancing down at the older boy.

 

“Wow.”

 

“What?”

 

“I have no idea what that feels like.”

 

“You're lucky.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

Jiyong stared at him, adorably contemplative look on his beautiful face. It was nice to just, be here, with him. To not have to worry about anyone else. He allowed himself to drown in the boy's complete captivation, lost himself to those tender eyes.

 

“Keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna be able to stop myself from kissing you.”

 

Seunghyun's heartbeat reverberated in his ears when a few minutes ticked by and those eyes were still on him. Beckoning. He rose, steps slow and deliberate as he moved to stand in the space between Jiyong's parted thighs. Carefully, he lifted both hands to frame feather soft cheeks. His thumbs stroked over warm skin and he forgot what air was. The boy's fingers hooked onto the belt loops of his jeans and he swooped in to crush their mouths together. Heaven was Jiyong's lips sliding against his, lazy and languid. He moaned when he was yanked further into the curve of that slender body, the older boy tipping back until he was nearly lying on top of him. Seunghyun braced himself with one palm flat on the table, delving into wet heat, exploring the landscape of Jiyong's mouth. The mountains of his teeth, the tidal wave of his tongue destroying every last thread of his poorly woven self-control. Their hips met and he trembled.

 

Breaking the kiss, Jiyong panted harshly, nose pressed into his neck. “We shouldn't be doing this. Someone might walk in.”

 

“I don't care,” he whispered, pulling back to draw the boy's bottom lip into his mouth.

 

Jiyong arched against him with a quiet whimper and Seunghyun silently vowed to never let go.

 

 

Day 65

 

Ignorance truly was bliss. Jiyong wouldn't doubt that ever again. He wished he didn't know what Seunghyun tasted like, wished he didn't know how flawlessly he fit in the boy's arms. It had been better, not knowing, because the fierce craving he had for the touch of those hands on his skin clawed at the hollow of his stomach and the walls of his heart. His fondness for the boy was a handicap. Teaching had become a difficulty. Especially with teasing eyes following his every movement. Seunghyun was an addiction. A habit that Jiyong couldn't break, no matter how much his conscience shouted at him to stop.

 

Class had ended but the boy was still here. He'd brought his portfolio this time, had laid his life's work out over the long tables and was now pacing the floor as he awaited his judgment, fingernails whittled down to nothing. God, he was a loser. He hadn't even been this nervous when he presented his art to his Senior Seminar panel.

 

“Would you quit being such a huge baby?” Seunghyun motioned him over. 'These are really fucking good.”

 

Jiyong snorted derisively and stood next to the boy, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

 

“I'm serious.”

 

“I know you are.”

 

“Remind me, again, why you're so intent on wasting your life in this shit hole? You should be sharing this with the world not letting it collect dust.”

 

“I  _do_  have other talents, y'know.”

 

Turning to face him, Seunghyun smiled, eyebrow raised.

 

“I can think of a few already.”

 

He clucked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

 

“Always so inappropriate.”

 

“I'm an eighteen year old boy. Being inappropriate is like blinking.”

 

Sighing, Jiyong began organizing the scattered piles of paper.

 

“Don't remind me.”

 

Seunghyun coughed and rushed forward to help him.

 

“I'm not trying to imply that what you're doing isn't admirable. But you're still young and there will still be kids who need saving ten, twenty years from now.”

 

“Seunghyun.”

 

“Jiyong.” One of the boy's hands closed over his as they reached for the same drawing. “Just think about it, please. For me.”

 

He stared, amazed at how insistently Seunghyun was pushing this. Even more amazing was that he was considering listening to the advice of someone who was six years his junior.

 

“That's the first time you've ever used my name.”

 

The younger boy blushed. He twisted his hand, tangled their fingers together, and squeezed.

 

“And I will,” he promised.

 

 

Day 76

 

Thanksgiving break snuck up on him like a shadow. A ticking time bomb reminding him that the end of the semester was lurking around the corner. Seunghyun sprawled out on his bed, arms tucked behind his head. He'd barely left his house all weekend. Five days of no school meant five days of no Jiyong and he hated it. He wondered if the older boy was with family right now. Or if he was alone. Even though he believed the holiday was total bullshit, the thought of Jiyong by himself broke his heart. He let his mind wander, imagining how the two of them would spend their Thanksgiving together. Curled up on the couch, gorging themselves on cheap Chinese takeout while a cheesy movie flickered on the television screen? Or hidden away in their bedroom, limbs perpetually intertwined under the covers as they drifted in and out of sleep? Much as he liked pretending this was his reality, Seunghyun wasn't so foolish to believe it would ever really come to fruition.

 

He thought about the kiss. Replayed it over and over again in his brain. It had been more than two weeks and he could still recall exactly how delicious those lips were, how the older boy had held him so close.

 

Seunghyun groaned and rolled over, buried his face in his pillow. He wanted a future with Jiyong. He didn't want the day of his graduation to be the last they saw of each other. He didn't want to walk out of the other boy's life and become something Jiyong grew to regret.

 

His mother knocked hesitantly on his door and cracked it open to check on him. He feigned unconsciousness until she went away.

 

More than anything, he wanted the freedom to earn his love. His trust. And he wouldn't have that until he'd stumbled out into the world and made something of himself first. At the very least, the older boy deserved that. Seunghyun just prayed that he wasn't the only one with a head full of hope.

 

 

Day 81

 

Jiyong was falling. Had, fallen. Only it didn't register until he caught himself watching Seunghyun from his desk, envisioning what it would be like to drift to sleep next to the other boy. To run his fingers through that lush, dark hair until he succumbed to his dreams. He didn't have thoughts about sleeping  _next_  to someone he wanted to fuck. No, Jiyong had thoughts like that about people he wanted to make food for, make art for...make love to. And it scared the living shit out of him. Truthfully, his last relationship had been a total disaster. Full of sex, but no love. Promises, but no trust. He wasn't broken. Just overly cautious. Apparently he hadn't been cautious enough.

 

Ever since Jiyong brought his portfolio in, Seunghyun had been staying late after class. Sometimes he worked on his final, sometimes he just sat there, mute, and observed Jiyong draw. Today, though, the boy was helping him clean. It was sweet, really. They had swept the entirety of the room and were now sponging down every surface they could find. Seunghyun, oblivious, flicked his wrist and splattered water all over Jiyong's face. He spluttered, wiping away the droplets of moisture.

 

“Thanks, jerk.”

 

The boy looked over at him, at first confused, and then lit up with mirth.

 

“My bad.”

 

“Yes, I can feel your remorse all the way over here.”

 

“Oh come on.” Seunghyun approached him, which is exactly what he wanted. “It's just water.”

 

“Just water?” He smirked once he was close enough, giddiness taking hold of him as he saw those dark eyes widen right before he squeezed the liquid contents of his sponge onto the boy's head.

 

Seunghyun's eyes were closed, lips pressed into a flat line. Slowly, he backed away, the giddiness filling his chest until it felt like he was going to pop. The boy blinked rapidly and glared at him. Shit.

 

As fast as he could, Jiyong took off, scrambling around the tables to the other side of the room but Seunghyun was hot on his tail. He giggled uncontrollably, suddenly transformed into a rebellious toddler. They passed by the sink and the boy paused to wet his sponge. Fuck, he was in so much trouble.

 

“You can run, but you can't hide,” Seunghyun taunted, lunging after him with a predatory smile.

 

The art room came alive with their laughter and shrieks, the floor becoming slick as they flung sponges heavy with cold water to and fro. They slipped and slid, chasing each other in circles until Seunghyun finally grabbed him by the wrist. Spinning, they both crashed to the ground in a wet, breathless pile.

 

Jiyong rolled over to straddle the boy's hips and sat up, gazing down into those pretty brown eyes. Pretty brown eyes that were swimming with so much adoration it almost took his breath away again. With one hand, he trailed his fingers over the bridge of Seunghyun's nose, the swell of his cheekbones, the sensuous shape of his mouth. He didn't think he would ever tire of staring at such an angelic face. Before he could convince himself not to, Jiyong dipped low to kiss the boy's silken lips.

 

Long arms circled his waist and squeezed him so very tightly. It felt good to be held like that. So good that he never wanted to get up. They could stay here tangled on the floor forever. No one would mind, surely. His heart throbbed when he remembered how few days they actually had left and he kissed Seunghyun deeper, pushed his tongue past the boy's teeth. Jiyong would devour him if he had to. Would keep him safe inside the hollow of his ribs. Anything to prevent him from turning into a cherished memory.

 

Seunghyun lifted both of them until he was sitting in his lap, hands cupping the back of Jiyong's neck, eagerly welcoming the invasion. His fingers disappeared under the boy's shirt to steal the warmth from his skin, to press him closer. When it seemed like his lungs might burst, he reluctantly tore his lips away, forehead plastered to Seunghyun's.

 

“Why do you like me so much?” He whispered.

 

“Do you want the whole list? Cause that might take a while.”

 

Jiyong smiled.

 

“There's a list?”

 

“There's always been a list.”

 

How was an eighteen year old better at this than every grown man he'd ever known? More importantly, how was he ever going to find the strength to say goodbye to this precious boy? This miraculous, sweetheart of a human being. He wound his arms around those broad shoulders, burying his face into Seunghyun's chest.

 

“What brought this on?” The boy stroked the back of his head and he allowed his eyes to drift shut.

 

“I don't know what we're doing,” Jiyong mumbled against damp fabric.

 

“Neither do I.”

 

“That's incredibly reassuring.”

 

Seunghyun gave a short laugh, tilting his head to brush a kiss over Jiyong's temple. He supposed, as long as they were both clueless, it didn't matter.

 

 

Day 85

 

Jesus christ, it was fucking cold. How was it December already? School wasn't supposed to fly by at the speed of light, it was supposed to last forever, like dragging a dead horse down an unpaved road with fishing wire. Seunghyun rubbed his hands together, turned the heat in his car all the way up. He'd been sitting in his driveway for ages. If he waited any longer he would be late for class, but he couldn't muster the courage to put the car in reverse. Last night his parents had changed his life. A decision he had no say in, naturally. In three months he'd be on his way to training for the Peace Corps. After that? Well, he'd go wherever the hell they wanted to send him. He just hoped it was somewhere tropical.

 

The hardest part was going to be telling Jiyong. But how did you just go up to someone, someone you almost definitely might be in love with, and inform them that you're gonna be on the other side of the fucking world for two years? Did he even have the right to ask the boy to wait for him? Did Jiyong even feel the same way? That was a better question. He'd noticed a change in the way the older boy looked at him. Noticed that he was starting to feel distant, unreachable. A chill ran through Seunghyun, though his car had transformed into a sauna on wheels.

 

He brushed a hand through his hair, tied it loosely behind his head, and backed out of the driveway.

 

There was only one way to find out.

 

 

Day 88

 

Two days. That was all. Two days and Seunghyun would be receiving his hard-earned diploma while Jiyong would go back to a life he didn't really recognize anymore. He didn't know what he'd been thinking, honestly. It's not like they were going to ride off into the sunset with each other and live happily ever after. What kind of future would they even have? Seunghyun needed to experience things, make mistakes. More mistakes. He laughed, humorless, and walked into the art room to prepare for final reviews. Jiyong was shocked to find the boy already there. Waiting for him.

 

“You've been a total shit these last few days, you know that?”

 

“Seunghyun, please.”

 

“No. This is happening right now whether you want it to or not.”

 

Seunghyun stalked toward him, herding him into the corner near his desk. He didn't like this. The boy got right up in his face, eyes shining with pent up frustration.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

“Excuse me?” His heart stopped.

 

“I said, do you love me?”

 

Jiyong stared into those angry eyes, warring with himself. Was it truly so unreasonable to be realistic about the two of them? They would both be insane for entertaining any other version of reality. He sighed, hands shaping themselves into fists so they wouldn't try to reach for the boy. If he lied right now, he'd hate himself until the day he died. He just couldn't decide if telling the truth would have the same result.

 

Before he could even think of forming the words, footsteps echoed in the hallway and the boy's face went blank.

 

“Don't think you're getting out of this alive.”

 

Jiyong had never once believed otherwise.

 

 

Day 90

 

Seunghyun didn't get the chance to talk to the older boy again until his last day of class. At this point he could give a flying fuck if anyone else noticed the tension radiating from both of them, as soon as that final bell rang out he was dragging Jiyong into the storage closet and locking the door behind him.

 

“So you can't run this time,” he explained when he received a raised brow.

 

“Are you holding me prisoner?”

 

“I just want an explanation, Jiyong.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For the way you've been acting.”

 

“I thought that would be obvious.”

 

“So you're gonna give up? Just like that.”

 

“Seunghyun, I-”

 

“You know what? No, fuck this.” He shoved Jiyong into the wall. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me.”

 

For a while all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears as they glared at one another. Jiyong turned away first.

 

“I can't,” the older boy whispered.

 

“Then what the hell is going on?”

 

“You're graduating. I...I didn't want to be something that tethered you here. Something that prevented you from growing, from living your own life. I mean, you're only eighteen years old for fuck's sake.”

 

“And you're such an old man.”

 

“At least I've been to college.”

 

“Didn't make you any smarter, apparently.”

 

Jiyong punched him in the arm and he ducked his head to claim the boy's lips with his own. He swore that mouth tasted more honey-sweet every time.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“Because I wanted to.”

 

“You don't fight fair.”

 

“There are no rules when you're playing for keeps.”

 

He bent to kiss Jiyong again, slower, and the boy clung desperately to the front of his hoodie. Seunghyun teased at his lips with the tip of his tongue, fingers sinking into his short hair. Fuck, he was gonna miss this.

 

“What does this mean? For us.”

 

“That's entirely dependent on you.”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

Moving away, Seunghyun anxiously paced back and forth in the enclosed space. Here went nothing.

 

“I'm leaving in three months.” Jiyong's eyebrows collided and he felt like he'd just kicked a puppy. “My parents signed me up for the Peace Corps and I leave for training at the end of March.”

 

“Is this a joke?”

 

“No.”

 

“You're an asshole.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“How long?”

 

Seunghyun glanced at the boy and nibbled on his lip before replying.

 

“Two years.”

 

Jiyong fell into a crouch and knocked his head back against the wall.

 

“Why can't you just let me go?”

 

“Because I'm selfish.” He hesitated. “And because I love you.”

 

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

 

“It wasn't my decision.”

 

“Objecting wasn't an option? Come on, Seunghyun.”

 

“You don't know my parents.”

 

“No, but still. This is a lot to handle.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

The older boy's head fell into his hands and their silence strained against the confines of the tiny room like a physical force. Seunghyun didn't know what to do to make this easier. It was as though his life was hanging in the balance. Was Jiyong aware of the power he held over him?

 

“I won't ask you to wait for me,” he said, soft and somber.

 

“I would.” The boy was staring at the floor now, shoulders hunched. “If you asked.”

 

Seunghyun breathed in, unsteady on his feet though he hadn't moved.

 

“Will you wait for me, Jiyong?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Legs eating away the distance between them, he pulled Jiyong up from the floor and trapped him inside of a crushing embrace. He would miss this the most. More than the kisses and the teasing caresses. More than the boy's smiles and his addictive laughter. Because nothing made his heart swell more than when those thin arms hugged him back twice as hard.

 

 

Day 95

 

Shivering in the frigid night air, Jiyong made his way from the parking lot to the entrance of the school. The massive building was so ominous without its belly full of noisy kids, most of the windows dark and lifeless. He pushed experimentally at the last door on the right and it swung open, just like Seunghyun said it would. The boy had sent him a cryptic email yesterday, requesting that Jiyong meet him in the art room at 10pm. He'd thought it had been a typo, but no. For the life of him he could not even begin to speculate on what the boy was up to. With careful steps, he climbed the stairs and walked down the hall. The door was cracked, but the lights were off. He frowned, slipping inside.

 

“Seunghyun?” He called. “It's dark. Why is it dark?”

 

Before he could reach for the main switch, the room illuminated in a burst of warmth. Hundred of tiny yellow bulbs were strung from the ceiling, some of them glowing gradually brighter. Like lightning bugs. Seunghyun stood at the back of the room, dressed in a fitted black suit and black tie. Jiyong's mouth fell open and the boy's answering smile outshone all the lights in the world.

 

“It's too cold for stargazing. So I brought the stars inside instead.”

 

“What's with the fancy threads?”

 

Seunghyun chuckled. “Graduation dinner with my parents and their stuck-up friends. Too much?”

 

“No.” He shook his head, eyes hungrily traversing the boy's body. “You're exquisite.”

 

“Sweet-talker.”

 

Grinning, Jiyong walked further into the classroom, neck craned to bask in the pretty, twinkling lights. They were spectacular. He probably wouldn't have the heart to ever take them down, now. Not that he needed any more physical reminders of the boy's absence once he was gone. He felt Seunghyun's arms snake around him from behind and he sunk back against his chest. Supple lips attached themselves to his jaw and he closed his eyes.

 

“How did you manage to pull this off?”

 

“I bribed the custodian to give me the keys.” Seunghyun smiled into his skin.

 

“I should report you for trespassing and vandalism.”

 

“But you're not my teacher anymore.”

 

“That's right.” Jiyong turned around, hand smoothing down the boy's stomach to palm his cock through the fabric of his dress pants. “I'm not.”

 

“Oh god,” Seunghyun moaned, nose pressed to his cheek.

 

He shifted to suck the boy's bottom lip into his mouth and stroked him once more, drunk on the way he was helplessly bucking into the curves of his fingers. It would be so easy to dismantle Seunghyun right there. To have him fall apart, whimpering into his ear. But it wasn't the time, or the place. With a final stroke, he twisted out of Seunghyun's arms and moved to sit on one of the tables. Jiyong was sure he looked rather pleased with himself. Especially after it took the poor boy a few moments to pull himself back together.

 

“You horrible, horrible tease.”

 

“Consider it a preview of your graduation present.” He smirked.

 

“Ah, so that was just a taste of things to come?”

 

He rolled his eyes and laughed. Seunghyun thought he was so clever.

 

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

 

Cradling his face, Seunghyun molded his mouth to Jiyong's and he sighed happily into the kiss. It was not the last time they would see each other before the younger boy left in the Spring. Though it felt like an end to something. Or perhaps it was a beginning. He wasn't sure. Jiyong only knew that he would take whatever he could get before March rolled around. Every second, every hour he could steal. Every kiss, every touch, every inappropriately funny joke. It would be too long before he could have them again. He slid a hand into Seunghyun's larger one and tried to cement in his memory how their palms fit together.

 

“Have you found out where you're going?” Jiyong asked, not positive he even wanted to know.

 

“Nope.” The boy laid down on the tabletop, pulling him with. “I won't know until after training.”

 

He snuggled close, head resting on his chest. Their stars blinked high above and he smiled, ignoring the painful pounding of his heart.

 

“I will miss you so very much.”

 

“I'm not gone yet, Jiyong. Don't think about it right now.”

 

Seunghyun yanked him closer and he tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat, fingers curled around the boy's tie in a vice grip. Rather than dwell on the inevitable, he let the sound of the boy's even breathing lull him into a light slumber, secure in the knowledge that Seunghyun would still be there when he opened his eyes.

 

 

Day 281

 

The heat of the June sun beat down upon Jiyong's bared shoulders as he walked back to his apartment from the coffee shop around the corner. He enjoyed his long Summer breaks, but it always made him feel so useless, never knowing quite how to spend his days. He'd taken Seunghyun's advice however and had dedicated some of his free time to building up his portfolio. Whether he actually grew the balls to do anything with the mountainous stacks of artwork in his tiny studio or not was another story.

 

Unlocking the main door of the apartment complex, Jiyong stopped to check his mail before heading upstairs. There was only one item lodged in the tiny compartment. A thinly padded envelope.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

He snatched it with shaking fingers, frantically ripping the small package open and dumping its contents into his hand. It was an oddly shaped stone, polished and shiny and the color of red clay. Jiyong studied it for a moment, flipped it over curiously. Actually, the shape wasn't odd at all because he could see now that it was a heart. A tiny, smooth, heart-shaped stone with the word “patience” carved onto its surface in curling script. He checked the envelope but there was nothing else, just the stone.

 

“You little shit,” he murmured, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

 

Patience was not a skill he had ever mastered, but life had a funny way of changing that. Jiyong closed his fingers around the heart-shaped stone, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. Only four-hundred and forty-nine days left.

 

Sure, he could be patient. 


	2. Deleted Scene

 

Day 109

 

 

Due to the fact that Jiyong had been tied up with end of the semester administrative bullshit, Seunghyun forced himself not to get pissed because he couldn't see the older boy for days. His carpet had suffered though, the dark blue color becoming dull and faded where his feet had tread repeatedly. When he couldn't sleep, which was often, he paced. It helped him focus. Most nights his thoughts were a cluttered mess of fragments, the only common thread tying them together into any kind of cohesive sense was a certain dark-haired art teacher. He didn't want to be the type of lovesick idiot who spent every waking hour thinking about his...boyfriend. Was Jiyong his boyfriend now? Seunghyun supposed it didn't matter what they called it, as long as it meant the boy would always be there.

 

 

He sighed, eyeing his reflection in the mirror critically. Of course, he wasn't so naïve to delude himself into believing that things couldn't change while he was overseas. But he would deal with that when it happened.  _If_  it happened. Glancing at his watch, he cursed, and quickly pulled his hair up into a messy knot. He was going to be so fucking late.

 

 

*

 

 

Seunghyun parked on the street in front of the older boy's apartment building, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He watched the last rays of the winter sun fade into dusky twilight and blew out a shaky breath. Why was he so nervous? He shouldn't be nervous, it was just Jiyong. Laughing harshly, he rolled his eyes. Right, like that made it any better. They'd never met outside of the school before and he didn't know what to expect. This was all so new to him. He wondered if Jiyong was nervous too, could already see the boy biting his lip in an attempt not to chew on his fingernails. Smiling, Seunghyun crawled out of his car and jogged up the stairs to press the buzzer for apartment number three, dancing back and forth on the balls of his feet. The lock clicked open and he walked in before he could hesitate, taking the steps two at a time all the way to the top. He paused outside of the door, short of breath. There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing. So why was he stalling? With an unsteady hand, he knocked and stepped back.

 

When Jiyong's gorgeous, grinning face appeared before him, all the anxiousness coiled into a jittery bundle in his stomach.

 

“Hey, stranger.”

 

“Hey.” Out of habit, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

The boy was barefoot, skinny jeans rolled up to reveal bony ankles and muscular calves, his fitted white v-neck showing off the delicate curve of his waist and collarbones that Seunghyun just wanted to lick until his tongue went numb. Lord have mercy. He realized he was probably leering but he really didn't care.

 

“Did you drive all the way over here to stand in my doorway staring, or are you going to come inside?”

 

“Shit. No, sorry.” He winced, blushing, and brushed past the boy.

 

“Let me take your jacket,” Jiyong offered after shutting the door behind them, tugging the heavy coat from his shoulders.

 

The boy's fingers grazed the back of his neck as he did, eliciting a shiver. Seunghyun swallowed thickly. He was pretty sure that any attempts at conversation from this point on would devolve into him shoving his tongue down the brunette's throat. Turning around, he found Jiyong looking at him fondly, lips curved upward at the corners.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.” The older boy shook his head. “I'm glad you're here.”

 

The bundle of nerves in his stomach contracted. He swallowed again.

 

“Me too.”

 

The tiny smile on Jiyong's lips curled into a lopsided smirk and he moved closer, amused gleam in his dark eyes.

 

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Seunghyun?”

 

Did he seriously just...? The memory of that first day flashed in his mind.

 

“No.” He retreated as the boy advanced. “And if you say that you don't believe me I'm gonna wipe that smirk off of your face.”

 

“Oh yeah? With what?”

 

Jiyong seemed to be herding him in a specific direction but he refused to break eye-contact in order to look behind him. Seunghyun's back eventually connected with something solid, a wall or a door, he didn't know and he was a little too preoccupied to give a shit. The older boy drew near and he latched onto his hips, heart beat skipping like a broken record.

 

“With my tongue,” he murmured, swallowing Jiyong's pleased gasp with eager lips.

 

Those thin arms looped around his neck while his hands roamed, sliding over the boy's spine to slip into the back pockets of his jeans. He knew they still had time together, time for desperate touches and sentimental words, but knowing that that time was limited made the taste of Jiyong's mouth all the more bittersweet. Seunghyun tried not to think about departure dates and goodbyes, wouldn't let himself count the days or the hours, instead pouring all of his concentration into kissing every last breath from the boy's lungs. A thigh pressed in between his legs, putting delicious pressure on his growing erection. He moaned, squeezing Jiyong's ass and grinding their hips together.

 

“I've been dreaming of you every night,” the older boy mumbled against his jaw, nipping his skin. “Of all the things I would do to you, once you were naked in my bed.”

 

Well at least he hadn't been alone in that. The only difference being that his fantasies weren't limited to dreams, his mind was swollen with thoughts of Jiyong at all times. Seunghyun trembled when the brunette rocked into him, licking at the side of his neck. That coil of nerves kept tightening and he wished it would just go away. It's not like he'd never had sex before, he would never forget how it felt to be fucked for the first time, but this was different. This meant something. He lowered his lips to the boy's ear, sinking his teeth into the cartilage until Jiyong whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily.

 

“Then what are you waiting for?” He breathed, hands traveling up under that sinfully tight shirt.

 

The older boy's left arm dropped, reaching around, and the solidness behind him fell away as they stumbled into what he assumed was the bedroom. He grabbed a handful of Jiyong's shirt, peeled it up and over his head until there was nothing left but soft skin. Greedy palms devoured every inch of exposed flesh, smoothing over his shoulders and his chest while he sucked on the boy's tongue. Seunghyun tugged him closer, popping the button on his jeans. A needy whine vibrated in Jiyong's throat when the tips of his fingers sunk below the waistband of his underwear to toy with soft pubic hair. He wrapped those fingers around the base of the boy's cock, squeezing gently, and the sound that followed nearly made him come in his pants.

 

“Fuck,” Jiyong panted hotly into his mouth.

 

Seunghyun teased him with light caresses, brushing the sensitive underside of his dick, eliciting more erotic noises from those reddened, kiss-bruised lips. The boy clawed at his shoulders, face buried in his neck.

 

“Consider this revenge for last time.” Smiling, he removed his hand and pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off.

 

Jiyong swayed slightly where he stood, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. Shirtless, barefoot, jeans undone. Erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. The boy was truly beautiful. Was always beautiful. And Seunghyun didn't know how he had managed to survive this long without going blind.

 

“I guess I deserved that.”

 

He slid his shirt over his head, scrunching it up into a ball and throwing it at Jiyong.

 

“At least you don't have to wait two fucking weeks to get even.”

 

Chuckling, the older boy finished undressing, leaving his discarded clothes in a pile on the floor. Seunghyun's smile fell as he looked up, gaze gradually following the miles of bared skin. Coil of nerves unfurling and tightening, he swallowed and licked his lips. How was it legal for a human being to be this sexy? His fingers itched to dig into the boy's thighs, to press his thumbs into the tender flesh just above the peaks of his hipbones. Jiyong shoved him down into the mattress, hands making quick work of his jeans and underwear. The boy mouthed a wet kiss to the inside of his knee and his eyes slipped shut.

 

“Wait here.”

 

Like he was capable of wanting to be anywhere else.

 

A warm hand traveled over his stomach, drawing a surprised gasp from his lungs and the bed dipped next to him. The hand continued, drifting from his ribs to graze one of his nipples, fluttering over his sternum and his collarbones. His adams apple bobbed under the boy's fingers as they swept slowly up his throat, a single digit sliding over his jaw and his chin. Seunghyun was shaking by the time Jiyong's touch reached his eyelids, his eyebrows, his cheekbones, gliding over the tip of his nose to finish with a faint caress along the contours of his mouth. Opening his eyes, he met the boy's adoring stare and his heart grew heavy with desire. Cupping the back of his head, he yanked him down to crush their lips together.

 

Seunghyun rolled on top of Jiyong, pinning him to the bed, the sensation of their naked bodies pressed flush making his nerve endings spark and throb.

 

“Let me make love to you,” he whispered, limbs aching with the weight of his longing.

 

Without a word the older boy reached up, pulling the tie from atop his head. His hair flopped into his eyes and he grinned when Jiyong buried his fingers in the messy strands.

 

“So I have something to hold onto.”

 

He shivered, anticipation replacing the coil of anxiousness, a foil wrapper placed in his palm. Kneeling between Jiyong's legs, he ripped the foil open and slid the condom over his cock with a quiet hiss. When he glanced up, Jiyong was coating his fingers with lubricant. He almost choked on his own saliva as he watched two oil-slick fingers disappear inside the boy's tight heat. Seunghyun's arousal spiked at the sight of his lover preparing himself, eyes locked on his and jaw slack, tiny whimpers spilling from plump lips. A third finger was added and he felt his mouth go dry. The expression of pure pleasure on Jiyong's face was amazing, but he was going to lose his mind if he waited any longer.

 

Stilling the older boy's movements with a hand on his wrist, Seunghyun took hold of those soft thighs and wrapped them around his waist. Bending to brush a sweet kiss over Jiyong's chest, over his rapidly beating heart, he snapped his hips forward and cried out in blissful agony. Jesus christ. There was no way he was going to last more than a few minutes. Not when they boy was clenching around him, insistent heels pushing him deeper.

 

At first he couldn't move, the feeling too perfect, too overwhelming. But Jiyong undulated beneath him with a desperate moan and that was all the coaxing he needed. His lips attached themselves to the boy's mouth as he pulled out, drinking down every broken sob as he thrust back in. Seunghyun maintained his tortuous pace no matter how much he was begged to go faster or how hard his hair was pulled. He wanted Jiyong to remember how it felt each time he pounded against his prostate, each time he gently rocked forward into the cradle of his hips, wanted him to quiver and drown under the slow burn of his building orgasm. He gazed intently into the brunette's eyes and curled a hand around his leaking cock, thumb wiping the precome from his slit. Jiyong groaned, his body trembling in earnest. With great care, Seunghyun stroked him in time with every thrust until the boy arched against him, body convulsing as he fell to pieces. Only then did he quicken his movements, those thighs squeezing his waist so tightly, blunt fingernails scratching down his arms. Hips stuttering, he found his release, wrecked moan muffled by Jiyong's tongue licking lazily at the insides of his mouth.

 

They collapsed and Seunghyun smashed his face into the brunette's shoulder, totally exhausted. Jiyong trailed his hands along the ridges of his spine, cheek resting on the crown of his head. The heady, bone-deep satisfaction of climax clung thickly to his consciousness and he sighed, truly content for the first time in life.

 

“Don't fall asleep,” Jiyong muttered, poking him in the side.

 

“Why?”

 

“Round two.”

 

Laughing, Seunghyun raised himself up to look down at the little brat.

 

“Have I mentioned that I love you?”

 

The boy smirked.

 

“You'll have to refresh my memory.”

 

He gathered the bundle of Jiyong into his arms and reveled in his freedom to do so. He would cherish these moments, would lock them away inside of his heart. Because he couldn't be sure that he'd ever have them again. Seunghyun hoped, would always be hoping, that the boy would remain with him despite the years apart. But selfish as he was, that small kernel of doubt would forever be lurking in the corners of his mind.

 

“I would be happy to refresh your memory. All night long.”

 

Jiyong smacked his ass.

 

“You're so immature.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Their mirth filled the room as they rolled around on the bed, teasing one another and wrestling half-heartedly. Seunghyun wouldn't think of the minutes and the hours because he was too full of joy and he didn't want to waste any of it on worrying about something he couldn't prevent.

 

For now, Jiyong was his.

 

And he was going to shout it from the fucking rooftops.


End file.
